“No, don’t go there. You saved my life. And Alexandra’s. No one can really say how many women were saved because Decker and Short don’t walk the earth anymore. I’ve seen the places he gives money to, and I think it’s unfair that he sleeps fine at night. We have to say these things at some point.”
“I agree. I wasn’t aware we would say them in public.” Joanna stole an untouched napkin from an empty neighboring table to wash her face.
“I’m sorry about that. And I wanted to say that I have no more secrets. I told my parents that we’ll be busy in the next few weeks. Laying low, right?”
“Yes, we can do that.”
That night, for the first time, Joanna played the piano for Rue, wondering if she hadn’t turned out like her father at all, what it was her mother had given her. She didn’t miss the life she’d had any longer, but a small part of her still imagined the life she might have had if her mother had taken her with her that day.
* * * *
Denise hadn’t promised too much: In the following weeks, all of them worked overtime, along with every single one of the inn’s employees. The room in which Farrell and Alexandra had stayed was popular.
Joanna wasn’t surprised or particularly bothered, only confirmed in her perception about most people. She was lucky to have encountered some good ones—like Vanessa and Theo, Denise, Rue’s parents.
And most of all, Rue.
In the midst of the hectic activity, one of the shuttle drivers had a minor accident in his private vehicle, so Denise asked Joanna to take over his route to the airport.
“I know that’s not normally your job, but I’m sorry, I’m really backed up here.”
“No problem. I’m on it.” There was no way Joanna could say no though she preferred her usual odd jobs, the ones she was often able to do when there was no one around. It was different when she and Rue spent time at the restaurant or the bar sometimes—they blended in with the other guests. This was more contact that Joanna would have liked, but given the problem, there was no alternative. It had been quiet for a while. This shouldn’t be any different.
It was an especially hot day on the island, making Joanna grateful for the air-conditioning in the shuttle. The drive was an easy one, get a group of visitors to the airport and pick up the arriving ones in the area that had been marked in their booking confirmation. Except for the area close to the airport, there was little traffic, and the only interruption was a herd of sheep on occasion.
On day three, Joanna had lost her concern. The people she was driving weren’t much interested in conversations, groups of women and men, couples, families, all mostly occupied with themselves.
On day five, she picked up a couple of women and two men from the airport. One of the men was older, in his sixties, the other guests closer in age, early thirties perhaps. At first, Joanna had thought that they were together, but the man took a seat next to her in the front—without asking. The women sat in the bench in the back, talking to each other in hushed tones.
“How long is it to the inn?” the older man asked.
“Not long. About twenty minutes.”
Joanna saw the other man smile to himself. She wondered what was so amusing about that.
“You’ll have time to check in, and there’ll be a welcome cocktail for you after,” she informed the shuttle’s occupants. She had said the same sentence so often this week, it was starting to lose any meaning.
“That sounds great,” the man next to her said. “What time are you off work?”
“Not at that time,” Joanna returned, keeping a polite smile in place.
It wasn’t the first time a guest had come on to her, but since she kept her distance, it didn’t happen all that often. It was far too early, not that there was ever a right time for it.
In the mirror, she could see the women’s expressions, interest laced with irritation. She wondered if he had bothered them too. They might have to keep an eye on him, just in case.
“That’s too bad. What about tomorrow?”
“Planes land and take off every four hours. You do the math.”
“Touché. You must forgive me. I step off the plane and this place…It tastes like freedom.”
Perhaps he had already started on the cocktails during the flight.
“Well, I hope you will all enjoy it,” Joanna said. It didn’t mean a thing that her skin was crawling. She just didn’t like his type. Part of a bigger problem, just like her father.
Rue had been right. She was allowed to be proud.
* * * *
In the course of the afternoon and early evening, Joanna forgot about the annoying guest, until after a long shower and a change of clothes she reunited with Rue. He sat at the counter with a woman, but turned and waved to her when she walked in.
“Who’s that?” Rue asked before she got up to kiss Joanna in greeting.
“Just some guest from earlier. He wanted to know if I’d have the welcome cocktail with him. I guess he got over it that I didn’t. How was your day?”
“Long, but since it didn’t involve him, I guess I can’t complain. What would you like to drink?”
Rue already half-turned into the direction of the bar.
“A beer, please. Thank you.”
“Be right back.”
Joanna watched her walk up to the counter, chatting with the bartender for a bit. Her gaze fell back on the man who was studying the interaction rather than his companion. She wasn’t anyone Joanna had driven this week, so she had to have been at the inn for a while. Her body language didn’t scream discomfort. Maybe she was hiding it well, and maybe there truly was a match for everyone. Edward Short and Grace Lester had been a perfect match made in hell.
It was hard not to think of them at all. Joanna and Rue needed to build a new life from the ashes because they had burned it all down. Well, neither Grace nor Edward lived on a beautiful island.
Rue returned with two beers, a slice of lime sticking out of each bottle.
“I couldn’t help but overhear a part of their conversation,” she said. “I don’t think he’s going to bother you anymore. They made plans for tonight.”
“Good.”
“What is it?”
Joanna sent the slice of lime down the neck of the bottle, watching the foam rise.
“Sometimes I wish I could see the world like normal people. Less cynical.”
“It’s hard not to be cynical once you’ve learned some things,” Rue admitted. “But us, here, that’s only the first step. Everything is still so fresh, not to mention that someone was murdered here.”
“When I was twenty years younger, I would have shrugged it off. Now the kind just makes me sick.”
“Not every jerk is a serial killer. There would be few people around.”
“I love your use of logic.”
“I’m glad. It would be questionable as a sense of humor.”
Joanna turned her chair so that the couple at the bar wasn’t in her line of sight any longer.
“So, tell me more about your day.”
Despite the odd start, that guest didn’t try to talk to her during his stay. Rue saw him a couple of times with the other woman, and they seemed to have hit it off.
Perhaps she’d been overestimating herself, Joanna thought when she drove the shuttle bus to the front of the hotel.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said before climbing in next to her. “I haven’t seen you around much.”
“That’s because I’ve been working.”
“You live close by?”
“I do,” she said, unwilling to give him any more information. Perhaps he’d been drinking the last time. Perhaps he was awkward with women and had found one who didn’t mind—even better. All she wanted was to drop him off at the airport.
The older man who had arrived on the same day, came to join them, and according to Joanna’s list, this ride was complete. The younger women were staying another week.
“Off we go,” she said, fasteni
ng her seatbelt after she’d put the man’s suitcase in the back. “I hope you enjoyed your stay.”
Next to her, the man whose name was Liam Preston, leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. “Like you wouldn’t imagine.”
He might not be one of the worst, but he still came across as a creep, even to Joanna who had often been the only woman in otherwise all male groups. She was glad he’d be off the island in a few hours.
* * * *
His research had taken him to many fascinating places, giving him a lot to think about while he worked on the next steps. He never lost sight of his priority though: Two women who had tried to make their mark in a men’s world, attracted by danger. He had a clear vision of what he wanted to do for, and with, each of them. For that, he had to figure out more pieces of the puzzle, investigate the players.
Like the surprisingly rich friend and her connections. All those connections had led to a trail, the story of two other women, trafficked from Eastern Europe, who had escaped their fate.
He leaned back in his chair, drinking from his beer, a smile appearing on his face when he watched the video. It had been taken with a cell phone and uploaded to the Internet in a place where few people would think to look…But he wasn’t “few people.”
Cops were arresting a man who had bought a wife for himself.
He shook his head at the stupidity. It didn’t work like that. Women needed to be coaxed, offered a valuable alternative. He paused the video and studied the frozen image.
He had made his choice.
He knew what she wanted more than anything, and he was going to provide it for her.
She’d be forever at his mercy.
Chapter Eleven
Liam Preston, or at least that’s what he was going with these days, had indeed enjoyed his trip, even though it was more of a research venture than a vacation. Lucky for the women and one man he had pursued during his stay. His focus wasn’t on them.
Back home, it didn’t take him long to put all the puzzle pieces together and work on the logical next step.
The building was busy as always, no one noticing a thirty-something man in a suit. No one noticed that he’d been here before, with a visitor’s badge under a different name.
Now he wore Bill Meyers’. Poor Bill was probably still frantically searching for his this morning, wondering what had happened the night before after too many drinks with a stranger. He probably didn’t even remember how much he’d told that stranger about his boss.
Liam kept his head down as he headed straight for his destination. He had a window of a few minutes. The secretary would be on her coffee break, the personal assistant…Well, he wouldn’t be available today. He had leaned from Bill that Mitchell would be there. On his agenda he had a meeting with one of his fiercest competitors.
For the last two floors, Liam took the stairs to be on the safe side, and he entered through the main door of the company’s offices with Bill’s key card. It was quiet up here, reeking of obscene wealth. Not that he had anything to say against it—his time as a freelancer had brought him considerable financial security.
Now he was just killing for fun.
He confirmed what he’d observed before: The secretary’s desk was empty. Liam believed in a polite start for every interaction, no matter how messy things might have to get down the line. He knocked. There was no answer. He tried again.
“Damn it, I told you no interruptions—”
When Liam walked into the room, the man who had yelled from the other side of the door, jumped to his feet with surprising speed.
“Who the hell are you?”
Politeness ended right here. Liam laughed at Lawrence Mitchell’s anger. He moved quickly and punched the older man. Again. And again. He only spoke a few words.
When he was satisfied with his work, Liam wiped his gloved hands on the handkerchief he’d brought. He carefully closed the office door on his way out, and stuffed both gloves and handkerchief into a small backpack. He left the building whistling. The plan was in motion.
* * * *
Lawrence Mitchell was lucky, though he didn’t feel that way when he came to on the floor of his office, bleeding onto the expensive carpet. Part of him was surprised he wasn’t dead, and for several seconds, the anger and terror threatened to overwhelm him. How could this have happened? Certainly he had angered some people in his career, bleeding heart liberals like Rue and his daughter, but these folks usually didn’t revert to means like this…
The thought of Joanna made him uneasy before he understood why, and then the memory hit him.
“Bill!” he cried, before he remembered that Bill Meyers hadn’t come in today. Instead, his secretary came rushing in, her hand going to her mouth when she saw what happened.
“Don’t just stand there,” he hissed. “Go get the police, and get me Detective Kato on the phone.”
He had to correct the record…and get rid of the disturbing taste of blood. Even so he was likely to miss that damn meeting. Grant would not be happy, but at the moment, Lawrence couldn’t care less.
* * * *
Detective Allison Kato had an instinct for when someone wasn’t telling her the whole truth. That made her good at her job. In the past few months, it had also put her in a state of constant frustration, because she had no choice but to live with half-truths and missing information.
Edward Short was dead. Grace Lester remained behind bars.
Joanna and Rue had ridden off into the sunset, wherever that was. Vanessa Young had left Internal Affairs, and that left Allison and Theo back at work, pretending that with the Short/Lester case closed, there weren’t any inconsistencies left.
The outcome wasn’t a bad one by any means, from a pragmatic or human standpoint. She had other cases to worry about. She didn’t know the whole story, and that bothered her. When she came to work that morning, Allison had no idea that an hour later, she would be sitting next to Lawrence Mitchell’s hospital bed, hearing the words that sent her into a disturbing tailspin of doubt.
“He said, your daughter says hello,” Mitchell insisted.
Allison didn’t know Mitchell or his daughter well, but she could vouch for one thing—Joanna’s single-minded determination for saving victims, one in particular. Allison had met Mr. Mitchell only once before. He and Joanna didn’t talk. He had rejected her for being a lesbian a long time ago. As far as Allison knew, they hadn’t seen each other in years. This didn’t make sense.
“Are you sure? This was a traumatic situation…”
“I’m not stupid or deaf,” he shot back at her. Father and daughter might be at odds, but Allison could see where Joanna got that stubbornness from. Also, she realized that he was offended by the idea that anything could faze or frighten him.
“I didn’t imply either one, Mr. Mitchell. Do you have any idea what he could have meant?”
“If I did, don’t you think I would tell you? I gave you a description. Find that son of a bitch. And find Joanna.”
“You don’t think…She had anything to do with this?” As she said it out loud, the mere idea sounded ridiculous to Allison.
“Until today, I would have said it’s impossible, but she does blame me for a lot of the bad things in her life. And she came to threaten me in case I did anything to interfere with her precious girlfriend’s career. Not that I had any interest in doing so, and that’s what I told her.”
This was getting more confusing by the second.
“Rue?”
“Yes, of course Rue. From what I hear, she’s disappeared. I can assure you that wasn’t my doing.”
None of this made sense. Joanna had killed a man. Maybe two. Both were sadistic murderers who had abducted and tortured women. Joanna wouldn’t associate with a violent individual, unless…Allison felt the blood drain from her face as the possibilities floated around in her mind.
Now she wished Theo was here. While the subject of Joanna seemed to be laden with regret and guilt over missed chances, he kne
w her. He knew what she was capable of and for what reasons.
“Get some rest, Mr. Mitchell,” she said. “I’ll get back to you when we have news.”
* * * *
Denise had hired an additional part-time driver, and so Joanna was mostly back to her normal work. Dr. Shepherd had moved into a different office. Everyone went back to their blessed routines.
No more visits from the police. Liam Preston, the creepy guest, was gone.
She and Rue could finally breathe.
That night, Joanna waited for her in the bar after her shift, chatting with the bartender. No one had heard from Alexandra or Tamara, but perhaps they could now find peace as well.
“That was something,” Oliver said. “We’ve never had this many criminals and craziness around here. Usually it’s a safe haven.”
“Let’s hope we can go back to that.”
“I’m off now,” he said, nodding to his replacement who had just come in. “How about we drink to that?”
“That Preston guy is finally gone?” Marika, Oliver’s colleague asked. “I’ll drink to that later. Boy was he annoying.”
Back off, Joanna reminded herself. Nothing to see here, at least not for her.
“He bothered you?”
“He bothered everyone,” Marika scoffed. “Well, some didn’t mind. He went off with a different person every night. Mostly women. One guy.”
Oliver shrugged. “Well, as long as they all went willingly, that’s fine with me. He was odd though.”
If anything, Joanna was fairly relieved that everyone shared her impression, though the man wasn’t their problem any longer.
“To safe havens,” she said, raising her glass in a toast, the moment Rue entered the bar. She walked over to greet Joanna with a kiss.
“What are we celebrating?”
“Freedom.”
She would have to admit that many of those ghosts she couldn’t seem to let go of, she had created herself. Joanna vowed to do better, starting right now.
Exit Strategy Page 7
